Thou, once a Body , now, but Aire ,
Arch-botcher of a Psalme or Prayer ,
From Carfax come;
And patch mee up a zealous Lay ,
With an old Ever and for Ay ,
Or, All and Some ;
Or such a Spirit lend mee,
That may a Hymne downe send mee,
To purge my braine:
So, Robert , looke behind thee,
Least Turke and Pope doe finde thee,
And goe to bed againe.